A Father's Love
by Jacinda
Summary: Post episode vignette for Murder in Rue Morgue told from Jordan's POV no relationships


The world seems so much more unsafe without him in Boston. I used to go to him when things got to be too much at work or if the pieces of one of my cases just didn't fit together. I've gone to his vacant house just to feel near to him several times; I go there because it could very well be all I have left of my father. The reality was that he might never come back; he might find a place where he doesn't see Mom in every garden, park, picture, and all the other beautiful things in the world. He might find a place with the tranquility that Boston has always seemed to lack. He might find a place where he can finally be free of the secrets that have burdened him for so many years. I don't want to believe it, but I feel forced to consider it as a possibility.

I love the sweater . . . bullet hole and all. It gives me the distinct hope that Max might be well. Max has never been a good shopper; when it came to buying clothes for me in the weeks proceeding the first day of school, Max would spend an awful amount of time trying to find the perfect length uniform skirt for me. It couldn't be too long, and it couldn't be too short. I always assumed that buying Catholic school uniforms would be easy; the school dictated what I was supposed to wear. Max put so much time into making sure that I looked beautiful; I wondered how much time it took him to pick out the beautiful cashmere turtleneck he mailed to me from somewhere in Texas. The postal stamps were too smeared for me to clearly distinguish where Max had been.

I've been sitting in my office . . . in the dark . . . clutching my sweater. I realized how much I needed my father today. I didn't know who to turn to after I faced the realization that I very easily could have been shot by a stray bullet. I very easily could have been on a slab in the morgue tonight. I just wanted my father to tell me that I was alive . . . that everything was going to be okay in the morning. It wasn't the same hearing it from Garrett or Woody. It wasn't the same hearing myself say it to Lily. It would have meant so much more coming from my father.

My life was always guided by the principle that much of the world is replaceable. Clothes, houses, cars, and the other myriad of things that clutter my office and apartment were replaceable. Boyfriends, in my experience, were a dime a dozen. Those things didn't matter in the long run.

Friends that cry with you can never be replaced. The way Garret let me cry softly against his shoulder when I had just a few moments alone in his office . . . that kind of friendship can never be replaced. I never found another Garrett in any of the cities that I had run to. I know I'll never be able to replace the close circle of friends that I have cultivated in Boston.

The love of a child that you don't even know can never be replaced. I knew that I'll dream of Flora. Some day a few weeks from now when I'm in autopsy one, I'll stop for a moment and wonder if Flora is okay. I'll wonder if she's able to cope with the things all those men and 'mother' did to her. She'll always be in the back of my mind and the forefront of my prayers.

The love of a mother can never be replaced. I've spent most of my adult life struggling to find someone that will compensate for all the love I was robbed of as a child. I've gone through men like water through a sieve. I've looked for love in casual sex; I've looked for love in the bottom of a pint of Guinness. I haven't found it. All my destructive searching has only amplified the loss of my mother. It hasn't answered questions; it's only made me doubt her love for me and my father.

The love of a father . . . it's all that I wanted today. It's probably all that I would have needed to shake me out of the depression that I have been hiding behind all the empty phrases . . . 'he'll come back when he's ready.' I prayed every night for the last month that he might be ready to come back to me. I needed him. I've always needed him. He's been the only emotional rock that I have ever had. Since he's been gone, I feel like I'm drowning.

I watched that girl run towards her father; I was jealous of her. I was jealous that she had someone there to save her when she was drowning in emotions.

I wondered if he's ready to come home.


End file.
